


dimensions taller

by seasonwon



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonwon/pseuds/seasonwon
Summary: Phil, an agent of the MI-6, is obligated to work with criminal Dan Howell to steal a device wanted by the British government. However, trouble ensues when they have competition Dan is all too familiar with. Phil learns the hard way of trusting the unpredictable, and also of an unwanted broken heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer! I apologise for the inaccuracy of MI-6 and how they work. This is all purely fiction. 
> 
> title is (kinda) from Frank Ocean's song, White Ferrari
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

He supposes that this is supposed to scare him. He’s quite surprised it doesn’t.

The white walls stretch endlessly, over the ceilings and the floors. The click of his shoes echo, the sound ringing louder and louder in Felix’s ears. Stopping right in front of the metallic door, which was guarded by two men on each end, he gives a mere nod. The man on his right salutes, proceeding to turn around by 180 degrees and lowers himself by a fraction until he is face to face with a protruding white compartment embedded on the wall. A horizontal line of blue shoots out of the compartment and scans his irises. The metallic door slides away with a contented beep.

The atmosphere drops by a few degrees. Not literally, but Felix blames it on his nerves. Still, on the outside, he has maintained a mask of pure indifference, head held high. He steps into the room, and the door slides back in place. Again, white walls, white everything. So spotlessly clean that its unsettling for one. For Felix, its more than comfortable.

“Daniel,” he says, staring at the figure lying on a bed, eyes already trained on Felix, unmoving every time he took a step forward.

“You’re not alone,” says Dan softly.

Of course Felix isn’t. One would be a fool to enter this room alone. The shiny glint of a security camera winks at him, hidden in the folds of the ceiling.

“Its just me here,” Felix assures nonetheless, arms slightly outspread, as if to show his company that he was gunless as well. However, the man just smiles.

“You never visit me anymore,” Dan pouts, but his eyes narrow behind that facade. “I thought we were friends. Didn’t you say that before? Five years ago? Before a parade of cop cars arrived to chain me up?” He spat, then, smiles wider until it was disconcerting. “Before I got the necklace?”

Felix ignores him.

“Sit down, you scare me like that,” Dan then says lightly, but his words were like an anchor, dragging Felix’s legs down until he took a seat on the chair opposite the bed.

“I got promoted a week after that,” Felix says, unfazed at how Dan’s eyebrows raise in a mocked congratulations.

“I have a…proposition for you,” he continues, but Dan stands up suddenly, seemingly deaf to his recent sentence. He looms over Felix, hands clenching and unclenching with a grimace flickering across his features, as if Felix was mud that’s he stepped on.

“How do you like it now,” he sneers, voice dangerously soft, “when someone looks down on you?”

“Sir,” a voice in his ear starts in a warning tone.

“I got this, Dean,” Felix mutters. He simply maintains eye contact with Dan, ignoring the latter’s wide eyes glancing at his jugular. “As I was saying,” he says calmly,” I have a deal for you.”

“I’m not interested. I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”

“You’ll have to do it anyway,” Felix cocks his head to the side. “It either my deal or none at all.”

“What if I refuse?” Dan grins, confounded.

Felix returns the smile, which seemed to irk Dan,” you won’t.”

Dan’s grin fades, and he flops back onto the bed. “Let’s hear it.”

“You’ll steal something for me. And in return, I’ll deduct ten years off your sentence.”

A sputter of laughter pierces the silence of the room. High, wild, and insane. Felix waits patiently for it to stop.

“Didn’t know you government lackies had to resort to your worst enemies to do your shit.”

Felix simply simpers, and Dan stops, lips curling downwards.

“What’s the catch?” He asks, suspicious. And when Felix doesn’t answer, Dan’s eyebrows shoot up so high that they almost disappear under his hairline.

“Its a death contract,” he says suddenly, glaring at Felix in soft fury. “You’re sending me to die.”

“Sir, I told you he wasn’t stup—“

“Yes, it is,” Felix says, pursing his lips slightly. “And the boy who died once won’t have a problem dying again., would he now?”

“What if I refuse?” Dan repeats, his tongue slipping past his lips. Then, he leans forward in quiet excitement. “Will you be torturing me again?”

Felix sighs. “You’re just trying to make this difficult for me, Daniel. You just don’t want me to win in this conversation. But do consider this.” He pauses, before adding,” and I am not here to fuel your sadistic complex.”

Dan laughs loudly, mad behind the eyes. “I’m not sadistic, Felix. I simply welcome oblivion.”

Felix smiles then, amused. “What if I brought out your worst fears?”

“No, you can’t. You never did,” Dan sneers, turning his wrists subconsciously, revealing long, deep scars. He leans back, eyes closed while he wears a wry, somewhat sad smile. “I have no one and nothing to lose.”

“No,” Felix agrees. “But with this, Daniel, you will have something to gain.”

Dan’s eyes snap open. He finds Felix standing up, looking down on him, a ghost of a scorn on his lips.

~*~

When Alfie comes back with a broken leg, two broken ribs and a black eye, PJ is no longer adamant in not believing Phil’s third eye abilities.

“He got every injury of Alfie’s right,” he says to Jack Howard, head shaking in surprise,” a month before the accident happened, as well. Of course I thought he was full of shit because you do know Alfie’s success rate is pretty much the best, so it went totally over my head.”

Somehow, PJ remembers that day clearly. It was in February, when he and Phil were discussing the number of days until Dean snaps under pressure to change the coffee machine. Because yes, although they were secret agents working for the British government and travel literally every month, the most engaging conversation they could come up with was the spoilt coffee machine in their office. (PJ had said six days, but apparently Phil’s sixth sense abilities extended to him predicting that Dean would storm into office the next day with a brand new coffee machine from his own pay check. It was promptly abused by the rest of his colleagues.)

It was always Phil predicting the smallest things such as that that PJ took it to no serious thought. However, after laughing about Dean’s worrying coffee addiction, Phil pauses abruptly and breaks into a thin sheen of sweat. Dropping to the floor with PJ at his side, asking if he was okay, Phil whispered that Alfie would get into a terrible accident, and started to list his injuries one by one. PJ was both freaked out and incredulous.

“Its weird,” Jack agrees, taking a paper cup and filling it with water, “it happens at the oddest times too.”

“What’s weird?” Phil appears, smiling cheerfully at the both of them as he takes his own paper cup.

“You and your sixth sense.”

“Right,” Phil replies uneasily, then stares worriedly at his cup.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Jack says, ignoring the harsh stomp on the foot from PJ. Insensitive prick. “What happens when you…you know, predict stuff?”

It is obvious that Phil hesitates a second, but then he seems to shake it off. “It depends on the scale. If its really serious, I get visions of it. If not, the thought just randomly pops up, basically.”

“Wow,” Jack compliments, and Phil looks slightly relieved.

“I’m just angry it didn’t show me when and how Alfie would’ve gotten those injuries. Then he could’ve avoided it.”

“Not your fault,” PJ says sympathetically,”maybe it was something unavoidable. You know, something that paves for a future.”

Jack snorts at PJ’s profound sentence, while Phil tilts his head to the side in thought.

“You could be right—“ he starts, but gets interrupted by Dean popping his head into the room.

“Ah, Phil, here you are,” Dean says,” Felix wants to see you.”

~*~

With a slight begrudging heart, Phil went to the top floor of the building. He walks a steady rhythm on the burgundy carpeted floor as he passes by sheets of glass walls. Pristine and gleaming, just how Felix likes it.

Phil hesitates for a few seconds, his right hand hovering over the shiny bronze doorknob. Finally, clearing his mind, he turns it and pushes the door open. Phil considers himself fairly impressive in concealing his emotions and keeping on a pokerface. However, he finds himself visibly tensing, the grip on the doorknob even tighter.

Glass walls that stretch around the room gave a birds eye view of the bustling city. At the centre of the office was a wide oval table with a large revolver chair behind it. Sitting on it was, of course, Felix himself. He sported big, round glasses and his platinum hair was slicked back, wearing a distant, almost bored expression.

What Phil did not expect was, on one of the two chairs on the opposite side of the table, was someone Phil was familiar with, but barely knew. He had slightly curly brown hair mussed into a fringe, wearing a black jumper and jeans that hugged his torso and legs. His long legs stretched under the oval table and he was leaning back in his chair, looking nothing but relaxed. And no one dares to sit in Felix’s office, unless told to do so.

What irked Phil the most, was that the man looked back, and gave him a sneering smile. His hand immediately went to the gun slotted neatly on his waist.

“Relax, Philip,” Felix drawls, waving a hand. Phil falters, arm going limp as the man scoffs out a laugh. “Take a seat, will you?”

Phil did as he was told, feeling violated as Dan’s eyes rack up and down his body, like he was analysing every aspect of him in a calculating manner.

“I am very sure you are aware of Daniel Howell,” Felix says to Phil,” the notorious, elusive thief in the major theft reports. Howell, this is Philip Lester, my agent with one of the highest success rate.”

He was nothing short of confused. Of course he knew Daniel Howell. He was a real pain in the ass to track down, Phil had remembered Chris —his friend and a policeman — complaining. A wanted criminal. A dead wanted criminal. He never saw what Howell looked like. In fact, no one has. He died in a fire, the papers said. The Brighton Museum that burnt to the ground a few years back due to the gunfire breakout, the papers said. Body found was too disfigured to recognise, and so were the museum’s many artefacts. So what was he doing in Felix’s office with no handcuffs on, and not to mention, very much alive?

“Sir, but, I thought—“ Phil starts to say.

“He was dead? Technically, no. Lawfully? Yes.” Felix replies. “His death was faked, five years ago. But it wasn’t planned by him. It was, in fact, a plan of ours.”

This was news. Phil’s heart hammered in his chest at the revelation and couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Howell, who had a scowl on his face.

“We were keeping him in secret for a bigger picture, which is the mission you will be undergoing,” Felix’s lips curl upwards. “You two will be working as partners, under the alias of an engaged couple.”

“What?!” Dan sputters. Phil, although feeling the exact same thing Dan had expressed on the inside, decided to keep it professional and kept quiet. Felix eyes them distastefully.

“I am going to assume that you two approved of it,” Felix says. Dan’s right cheek twitches slightly in discontentment.

“Sir,” Phil finally exclaims, not hiding his contempt,” he is a criminal.”

“Relax, darling,” Howell sneers. “I am not going to steal your ugly wallet and become estranged. Felix and I have a deal.”

“Besides,” Felix adds calmly,” we have embedded a chip in his arm that monitors his whereabouts. The deal is to his favour, in fact. If he does complete his mission, he is ten years away from living as a free man.”

It was so easy. Too easy from both parties. Phil was all too familiar with Felix’s methods. He wasn’t one to make compromises, especially when the situation is in his favour, placed before him on a platter. Yes, Phil thought, watching Dan clenching and unclenching his fists under the table as he glares at Felix. Although it seemed as if Felix was so compliant to set a criminal free, Howell looked as if he was going to get pushed deeper behind bars. He pushed the thought back to a far corner of his mind.

“This is your job,” Felix says as he pushes two identical folders to each of them. Phil opened it, finding several documents and pictures of a thumb-drive.

“You want me to steal that small, dull thing?” Phil hears Howell mutter, clearly aghast.

“Well, yes,” Felix replies blandly,” it contains very important data. Data that could very well contribute to the end of the world.”

“What kind of data does it contain?” Howell presses.

“A whole new branch, no, a new field of nuclear weapons,” Felix replies. “It is in the possession of an extremely wealthy aristocrat, Madam Palyulin. She is currently residing in Italy. All her other information is documented in your folders.”

“Why would she, of all people, have something that the British government is so eager to obtain?” Howell raises an eyebrow, as if silently trying to put Felix in a spot and mocking the government at the same time.

“How could a twenty two year old man walk away with a fortune from a Luxembourg bank undetected?” Felix retorts mildly, but Howell bristles at the comment. “He steals, of course. So did Palyulin.”

“She may be living in Italy, but the thumb-drive is still missing. We don’t know where she might’ve hid it,” Phil comments and Felix nods.

“But Italy is a start. Your tickets are already booked for tomorrow. Daniel, you may leave.” As soon as he said that, two guards from outside came in to escort Howell out. The man grins at Phil and Phil glances back unwaveringly, not wanting to give Howell the satisfaction that he had thoroughly made him uncomfortable.

“See you tomorrow, darling,” he whispers as the guards force him to stand up and walk out. Bursts of mad laughter follow them until the door is shut again.

“He isn’t mentally stable,” Phil says to Felix, hoping that his boss would turn away from this crazy plan.

“He’ll finish the job,” Felix replies firmly. “If you had a choice Philip, to wait five more years until you’re allowed to have a fresh start, or continue being on the run your whole life, which would you choose?”

Right. That made sense. But Phil was still bewildered.

“I’m sorry, sir, but,” Phil hesitates a fraction before continuing,” why me? Why not Louise? Or PJ? Considering the circumstances, they seem more suited to watch over Howell.”

Felix simply stares back at him with a reserved, blank expression.

“Both of whom you’ve mentioned are currently too busy to be travelling around the world at the moment. I initially wanted Alfie for the job, but considering his current condition, it isn’t possible. You’re the next best, Phil. I’ll expect you keep Daniel in line.” And with a slight wave of his hand, Phil took that as cue to dismiss himself.

( _Huh_ , Phil thinks as he stares at his own reflection in the elevator mirror. _Unavoidable. To pave a way for a future._ )

~*~

“I’m only telling you because you’re in the MI-6. Swear on your life you won’t tell another soul.” Phil says in all seriousness, stuffing clothes into his luggage in a frenzied hurry.

PJ barks out a laugh at that, but stops meekly once Phil looks back with a glare. “Fine, fine. I swear,” he says hastily, downing his glass of wine. He pokes the fish tank standing majestically next to the sofa. “So…feed these little guys, huh? Why do you even keep pets anyway? You travel so much that they’re deprived of your motherly love.”

“There’s a reason why I have fishes and not dogs, Peej!” Phil’s voice shouts from the other room.

“But look at small Winston over here!” PJ points at the tiny clownfish hiding in pink anemone. “He already misses Mama Phil!”

“He does?” Phil comes out and stand in the hallway, looking genuinely stricken.

PJ deadpans. “You seriously need a love life.”

“Shut up, PJ,” Phil rolls his eyes, going back into the previous room.

PJ hums a little tune for a while before saying in a loud voice,” so, working with Daniel Howell, huh? So he’s seriously alive?”

“Shhh!” Phil storms out of the room, looking both terrified and furious at PJ. “Someone could hear you!”

“Who? Dean and Louise in the framed picture?” PJ snorts, pointing at a group photo during last New Year’s.

“I’m just anxious about it, okay?” Phil cards his hair through his fingers. “Howell is…he’s weird. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I think I can,” PJ says, a little sympathetically. “Excruciating hours of solitude.”

“I mean,” Phil wrings his hands, “how can Felix be so confident of a criminal to do our jobs?”

They fall into a silence, the only sound being the bubbles surfacing in the fish tank, until PJ says,” think, Phil. I’m sure there is more to the situation. Perhaps we should check Palyulin’s ethnicity.”

PJ then grabs the folder and opens it, and a few moments later his eyes widen a little.

“What?” Phil asks.

“I knew it…” PJ mutters before saying in a louder voice,” I mean, this is just a speculation, but she’s Russian.”

“So?”

“And she’s carrying a device so wanted by the government?” PJ presses. “If the British government wants it, what’s to say that other governments aren’t interested in it as well?”

“Then how does she not get in trouble for it?” Phil’s eyebrows furrow. “Unless…she has top protection.”

“Precisely!” PJ nods. “And from a powerful source, as well. She isn’t hiding it for herself, Phil. She’s hiding it for the Russians.”

“So how does Howell have a say in this?”

“The Russians may be familiar with our identities, because of their expertise,” PJ says slowly. “Except for you, Phil. Because you’re relatively newer than the rest of us. And of course they don’t suspect Howell at all…“

Phil sits straighter, sharing a glance with PJ. “…Because he’s dead.”

~*~

The apartment in Florence is quaint and cream-coloured, with dots of Baby’s-breath adorning the balcony and Orange Trumpet Vines spilling over the ledge like a waterfall. The apartment’s walls wore paintings of different sizes, fitted together with little spaces in between, becoming an abstract jigsaw puzzle. A lot of oceans and women from the renaissance, Phil observes, Felix has very widespread tastes in art.

He hears Howell mumble something and instinctively, he turns sharply.

“What?” Phil almost snaps.

“Fake,” Howell says again, albeit staring rather dreamily at the painting in the middle of the wall. Starry Night Over the Rhone by Van Gogh.

Phil finds himself a little stunned at the eccentricity. “Of…of course its fake. Its one of the most well-known paintings in the world. People wouldn’t allow it to be in…an apartment like this.”

“I had it in my apartment, once,” Howell catches Phil’s eye and smiles slowly, sending ants crawling down Phil’s spine. He manages to maintain the gaze, however, unrelenting.

“And people didn’t allow that, did they,” Phil mutters, going to check the bedroom. It was apricot yellow, with a single king-sized bed draped in snow white. He hears footsteps getting louder before he hears Howell’s voice closely behind him.

“Only one bed?” Howell says incredulously, bitter.

And apparently too close for Phil’s comfort, because he takes a quick step forward and turns around to face Howell.

“What’s wrong, _darling_?” Phil says condescendingly, “we are supposed to be engaged.”

Phil finds a jolt of satisfaction seeing Howell bristle, prickled, as a faint shade of red reaches his ears.

“I don’t like close human proximity,” he retorts in a quiet voice.

“Why, you’re scared I might kill you in your sleep, Howell?” Phil says scornfully. There is a sudden pause in the relatively comfortable atmosphere, turning into abruptly stilled breaths and the pause of traffic and birds chirping. Howell narrows his eyes and he takes quiet, slow steps toward Phil.

 _Don’t move_ , Phil demands to himself, but still, his legs move by themselves and he’s retreating until Howell has him cornered against the wall. They glare at each other, and Phil is irked that he has to tilt his head a little to face him. Howell seems to be leaning closer and its only a second before Phil snaps and whips out his gun to shoot him in the foot.

But Howell simply straightens, saying lightly,” call me Dan, fiancé.” With that, he leaves, with a silent threat hanging in between them. The atmosphere suddenly lifts as well, a tension that Phil didn’t even realise was there disappeared. A huff of strange relief leaves Phil’s lips as he slumps against the wall.

~*~

Florence is cozy, with different smells of roast and cigarettes floating in the air like a wispy cloud. It is definitely a place to visit for leisure, Phil considers dryly, or perhaps, a trip with your faux engaged to sit in a cafe discussing the plan for a government-led heist.

“So we’re the Luciens,” Dan snorts, drinking from his glass of beer. “Michael and James Lucien. Wise choice of names, Lester.”

“Forgive me for having no originality,” Phil rolls his eyes. “Just thought that our middle names would be the next best thing.”

“Is it weird that I think James suits you more than Phil?”

“Shut up.”

“Palyulin is residing in Venice, so that is where we should go first,” Dan continues, getting into business. “Should we search the area first or search for her?”

“For her,” Phil downs his black coffee. “It might give us a clue of where it is. We don’t even know if the thumb-drive is in Venice.”

“If I were her, I wouldn’t hide it anywhere near me,” Dan mutters, so soft the Phil almost didn’t hear him. “That would be reckless and stupid.”

“What do you think is her reason for obtaining the thumb-drive?” Phil asks. Takes one to know one, he realises. Felix wasn’t banking on a plan so careless, after all.

“To create her own nuclear weapons and become even richer,” Dan replies, eyebrows furrowed as he was deep in thought. “Another reason could be selling the information, and she’s bidding her time until a satisfactory price is offered. Or maybe, she just wants the world to be at her mercy. Power.”

Maybe she does, Phil thinks numbly. PJ may be right, too. And although she could be helping the Russian government, doesn’t mean she couldn’t turn the tables to her own benefit. The both of them watched the fountain at the city square, littered with people loitering around.

“But you hid Over the Rhone in your own apartment,” Phil says softly, so the other couples around them couldn’t hear him. “Isn’t that reckless and stupid?”

Then, Dan smiles, quite dazzlingly, the white glint of his teeth showing boldly. It wasn’t very different from the mad, twisted smile, but it isn’t the same. Phil’s eyes lower to his empty coffee cup, forcing the disappointed feeling of no more coffee over a funny tug at his ribs.

“That’s the difference, Phil,” says Dan. “I wanted them to find it. I wanted them to know that the very thing they wanted was within their reach the whole time.”

~*~

They were supposed to act like an engaged couple, but when Dan slips his fingers in between Phil’s, he instinctively jolts back.

“Sorry,” he mutters sheepishly at Dan’s raised eyebrow. “You just surprised me.”

“Yes, we’re practically strangers,” Dan replies wryly. “Not to mention that you think I’m psychotic.”

Phil feels his cheeks burn. Dan had said it so straightforwardly that it was rather embarrassing.

“Aren’t you?” He mutters, still.

“The perception of human sanity can be questioned,” Dan wonders out loud. “And I find it enjoyable to push those boundaries.”

“Fucking pretentious.”

To Phil’s (pleasant) surprise, Dan laughs. It isn’t the insane laughter that he had performed in front of Felix, but a low chuckle that is quiet and almost shy. Phil’s heart dips uncomfortably.

They take a train, and then a small ferry to the docks of Venice. The cobble pathways are lined with many artists, easel and paintings of gondolas and Venetian churches on display. There were many people shoving their way through, and as Dan’s hand tightened around his, Phil found himself letting go.

He knew that Dan felt that, and he knew that the latter was staring at him irritably, probably annoyed at his acting skills. Or lack thereof.

“I know you hate me,” Dan mumbles as they navigate past the throngs of people. “I know its because of my past crimes. I’ll assure you that the feeling is mutual, Lester. But for both our sakes please try to—“ He suddenly cuts his sentence short, eyes widening slightly as he looks over the crowd. Phil pushes down the rush of resentment towards Dan and turns to the direction at which Dan was looking at. But it was only for a second. Dan’s face hardens and he manoeuvres the both of them to the entrance of Saint Mark's Basilica.

“What?” Phil demands.

“Phil,” Dan says and smiles sickeningly sweet, looking a bit forced. He then envelops Phil in an embrace. Phil’s breath stutters in shock but his arms go up around Dan’s waist.

“More than one watching us since the ferry,” Dan whispers in his ear. “Don’t know if they just find us fascinating or they’re part of this fiasco, but can’t take our chances.”

He then holds Phil an arm’s length away, hands resting on Phil’s shoulders. “Do you want to ride a gondola, baby?”

~*~

“Do you want me to sing?” The gondolier says in a loud, cheerful voice. It was very near boisterous, but since he was so friendly, Phil decided to go with a nicer opinion.

“No,” says Dan flatly, sitting rigidly.

“I like your hair,” Phil says, glancing at the bright green hair the gondolier sported.

“Thank you!” He grins, eyes darting from Phil to Dan. He stared at Dan — who had his back turned towards him — for a curiously long time before booming. “You two brothers, then? Friends? Partners?”

“We’re engaged,” Dan says softly, hand taking Phil’s, taking the words right out of Phil’s mouth. Phil was secretly glad that Dan had said it though, because he didn’t know if he could’ve pulled it off.

“Oh,” the gondolier’s eyebrows rise high. “Congratulations!” Phil didn’t get a chance to thank him as he started to holler a short tune as they reached a turn. There was a few seconds of silence before the same tune was hollered back from the other side of the corner. The gondolier steered the gondola to the side and another gondola turned round the bend, passing by them. The two gondoliers nod at each other and their gondolier proceeded to turn round the bend into a narrow strip of water. The columns of stacked buildings seemed to close into Phil, as if the people inside were listening to what they were talking about. He blames it on his conscience, as, after all, he is undercover and currently living a lie.

“To your right is Marco Polo’s house!” The gondolier tells them, before continuing. “So, how long have you two been together?”

“Three years,” Phil says. “Your accent is quite unique. It doesn’t really sound Italian.”

He thought he was just being conversational, but he suddenly hears the gondolier huff behind them. “I can assure you that I am very Italian!” The gondolier sniffs defensively, and starts to speak in Italian so fast Phil could barely keep up. He looks at Dan helplessly, the latter smirking amusedly in the crook of his hand.

~*~

When they got off the gondola, Dan took Phil by both hands and says,” how about you look for the restroom first while I pay the gondolier.” _Split up and look for Paloalno. It will be faster._

“No, Dan,” Phil whisper-shouts,” I can’t leave you.” _Not when you could run off at any moment._

Dan rolls his eyes and subconsciously rubs his right arm. The tracker. “Didn’t know you’d miss me so quickly, darling. Go on, now. You know I won’t leave you.” _I can’t, anyway,_ he seems to say silently.

“Okay,” Phil says, reluctantly. He supposes that works; still in the role of a fiancé in love. Without putting much thought into it, he leans forward and kisses Dan on the cheek. The latter looked slightly surprised but quickly wore a fond smile to hide it. Phil then turns and walks into one of the many openings to narrow alleyways, disappearing from the crowd’s eye.

~*~

“How much is the ride?” Dan says nonchalantly, eyes trained on his wallet, not looking at the gondolier.

“I’ll tell you the price,” the gondolier says, slightly exasperatedly. “How about you tell me where the fuck you were all this time, Dan! I thought— we _all_ thought— you were dead!”

“Just came back from hell, Jack,” Dan says mildly. “Nice seeing you and all, but I can’t stop and chat. Afraid I’m being watched. So, you’re a gondolier now. That’s wild. What’s the price?”

“I’m _not_ , I just have connections that brought me here.” Jack cards his fingers through his striking green hair, looking even more exasperated. He yells something in Italian at one of the loitering gondoliers and laughs stoically. The other gondolier starts to walk towards them but Jack waves him off hurriedly, yelling in Italian again.

“Alright, I just told him you’re a foreign idiot who can’t understand me, but I said I can handle it,” Jack says, turning his attention back to Dan, who looked indifferent. “So you’re engaged now? You look so different, by the way. Your hair is so short and wavy now! And no earrings!”

“Yes, I’m…engaged.”

“Your man is definitely fit,” Jack smiles, amused. “Out of your league, don’t you think?”

When Dan doesn’t say anything, Jack didn’t look bothered by it. “And you’re alive, huh? Knew it, actually. The infamous Daniel Howell wouldn’t have ever died—“

“Jack, if you’re just here to make small talk, I’m going to find my fiancé.”

“No, no I’m not!” Jack slaps a hand on his forehead. “Actually, we have a new job and…well, now I’m wondering if you want to get back into action.”

Dan couldn’t stop his curiosity, and asked,” what job?”

The wind gets stronger, making the air smell of sea salt. The seagulls get louder and squawk incessantly, flying from the sea to the docks. The blue hue of the sky slowly unfurls into grey.

“Apparently one that’ll make all of us filthy rich,” Jack’s eyes twinkled excitedly. “I don’t have much details yet. But what I do know, is that its something to do with a thumb-drive.”


End file.
